Chapter 50: FIELD TRIP TO VIOLENCE
POV: Ivyn Mikaelson
[June 15, 2018 — Abandoned Valley Hills Mall — 9:30 PM]
The bass thumped through the concrete like a heartbeat. Three hundred people minimum, packed into the old food court, their voices rising and falling with each exchange of violence in the makeshift rings.
Johnny Lawrence stood at the service entrance, face cycling through expressions I'd never seen on him before. Horror. Fascination. Something that might have been nostalgia.
"This is illegal," he said finally.
"Technically gray area!" I pushed open the door wider. "Think of it as unregulated competitive opportunity."
"That's the same thing with a thesaurus."
Tory pushed past us both, eyes already scanning for the registration table. "Less talking, more fighting. Where do I sign up?"
"Beginner brackets are by the old Sunglass Hut." I pointed across the food court. "Rebecca runs intake. Tell her I sent you."
She was gone before I finished the sentence.
Hawk bounced on his heels beside me, mohawk freshly dyed an aggressive orange for the occasion. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen."
"Wait until someone's bleeding."
"That'll be MORE beautiful."
Miguel hung back, taking it all in with the careful observation of someone cataloguing escape routes. "How many people get seriously hurt?"
"Define seriously."
"Hospital."
"Maybe one a month. Viktor has good medics."
"That's... actually not terrible."
Aisha had her phone out, filming everything. "WorldStar's gonna love this."
"Please don't post anything with faces visible. Including mine."
"Too late. Already uploaded your entrance. 'Cobra Kai goes underground' hashtag."
"And there goes operational security."
[QUEST ACTIVE: Underground Field Trip]
[Objective: Guide Cobra Kai safely through venue]
[Bonus: Successfully integrate team into scene]
Viktor found us near the old Orange Julius stand. His smile widened when he saw Johnny.
"Sensei Lawrence! Honored to have you. Your student speaks highly."
Johnny shook his hand warily. "My student does a lot of things I don't approve of."
"The best students always do."
I led the group deeper into the venue, explaining the layout. Three rings for different skill levels. Betting stations by the former Cinnabon. Medical tent in what used to be a nail salon. The organizational infrastructure had improved dramatically since my first visit.
Tory's fight was first.
Her opponent was a woman in her twenties, lean and quick with a boxing background evident in her stance. The beginner bracket attracted people who thought street fighting was about aggression alone.
Tory proved them wrong in thirty seconds.
She moved like water made of knives. Slipped the opening jab, countered with a body shot that folded her opponent, and finished with a knee to the chin that would've been illegal in any sanctioned sport.
The crowd roared. Tory stood over her fallen opponent, breathing hard, grinning like a predator who'd just remembered what her teeth were for.
"THAT'S MY STUDENT!" Johnny bellowed before catching himself. Cleared his throat. "I mean. Adequate technique."
[TORY NICHOLS: First Underground Victory]
[Teaching Bonus: +25 XP]
Hawk went next. He'd insisted on the intermediate bracket despite my warnings.
His opponent was a veteran—forty fights, efficient strikes, patience that came from experience. Hawk had enthusiasm and aggression. For about two minutes, that was enough.
Then the counter punches started landing.
Hawk's head snapped back. Again. Again. Blood from a cut above his eye. The crowd noise shifted from excitement to concern.
He didn't stop smiling.
"AGAIN!" he screamed, eating another punch. "IS THAT ALL YOU GOT?"
The veteran hesitated. That hesitation cost him.
Hawk launched himself forward with the desperation of someone who'd already decided pain was irrelevant. His wild haymaker connected with something vital. Both fighters went down. Only Hawk got back up.
"COBRA KAI NEVER DIES!"
The crowd went insane. Johnny was on his feet, torn between pride and concern. Miguel looked like he might vomit. Aisha kept filming.
[HAWK: First Underground Victory (Brutal)]
[Dojo Reputation: +15]
Miguel's fight was different.
He'd drawn a grappler in the intermediate bracket—someone who wanted to take the fight to the ground and submit rather than strike. Miguel read it immediately.
The first takedown attempt, he sprawled perfectly. The second, he used the momentum to spin free and create distance. The third never came because Miguel had already closed the gap with a combination that left his opponent seeing stars.
Clean. Technical. Everything Johnny had taught him, applied to an environment with no rules and no refs.
"Beautiful," Johnny whispered. "That's my boy."
[MIGUEL DIAZ: First Underground Victory (Technical)]
[Style Points: Maximum]
Marcus found me between fights. "Your crew's impressive. The girl especially. She's got something special."
"She's had a hard life. Fighting makes sense to her."
"Bring her to my gym. I can make her into something."
"I'll mention it. No promises."
His nod was professional. Calculating. He saw dollar signs in my friends, and I wasn't sure how I felt about that.
Viktor's voice boomed through the speakers. "SPECIAL EVENT! Our very own Prophet has agreed to a handicap match! Three challengers, one ring, winner takes all!"
I hadn't agreed to anything.
Viktor's grin from across the room was unapologetic. The crowd was already chanting.
"PROPHET! PROPHET! PROPHET!"
Johnny grabbed my arm. "You're not doing this."
"I kind of have to now."
"Three against one is suicide."
"Three against one is a Tuesday."
I stripped off my shirt and walked toward the main ring. The Cobra Kai crew parted around me like water. Tory's eyes were bright with vicarious bloodlust. Hawk pumped his fist. Miguel looked terrified for me.
Good. Fear meant he understood the stakes.
[HANDICAP MATCH: Initiated]
[Opponents: 3 (Unknown skill levels)]
[Recommended Strategy: Divide and survive]
The three volunteers were exactly what I'd feared. A heavyweight with prison tattoos. A kickboxer with competition experience evident in his stance. A wrestler who'd clearly been waiting for someone to challenge.
"WITNESS ME!" I shouted to the crowd.
They screamed back approval.
The fight began without ceremony.
The wrestler shot first. I sprawled, but the kickboxer was already closing distance. His low kick caught my thigh and numbed the muscle. The heavyweight circled, waiting for his moment.
"Can't fight all three at once. Have to eliminate one quickly."
I grabbed the wrestler's head as he tried to recover from the failed takedown. Knee to the face. Brutal, effective, and enough to take him out of the equation.
Two left.
The kickboxer came with combinations. I ate the first few, feeling my ribs protest from the impacts. Blocked the head kick that would've ended me. Counter-punched to his body, making him think twice.
The heavyweight saw his opening. His punch came from outside my vision.
Stars. The concrete was cold against my back. How did I get here?
[HP: 85% → 62%]
[Status: Stunned]
Get up. GET UP.
I rolled away from the follow-up stomp. Found my feet. The crowd was a blur of noise and movement.
The kickboxer and heavyweight exchanged looks. They'd work together now. Smart.
I couldn't outpower them. Couldn't outspeed them both. But I could outlast them.
The next three minutes were survival. Taking damage I couldn't avoid while dealing whatever I could. A jab here. A leg kick there. Nothing decisive, but wearing them down while they wore me down.
The heavyweight gassed first. His punches slowed. His breathing turned to gasping.
I went all in.
Combination to his body. Again. Again. He dropped his hands to protect his ribs, and my hook found his jaw. He fell like a tree.
One left.
The kickboxer had stamina, but he'd been fighting too. We circled each other, both dripping blood and sweat. The crowd held its breath.
He threw his best kick. I stepped inside it, accepting the shin against my side in exchange for position. My elbow found his temple.
He didn't get up.
[HANDICAP MATCH: Victory]
[+150 XP]
[Reputation: Underground — Legendary Status Achieved]
The crowd's roar was deafening. I stood in the center of the ring, body screaming protests I ignored, and raised my arms.
"PROPHET! PROPHET! PROPHET!"
Johnny's face when I climbed out of the ring was complicated. Pride and concern and something that might have been recognition—seeing himself at eighteen, willing to break himself for victory.
"You're insane," he said.
"But I won."
"You nearly died."
"But I didn't."
He shook his head. Then laughed. Then pulled me into a rough hug that made every bruise scream.
"My students are warriors."
The pizza place at 2 AM was fluorescent lights and exhaustion and the best food any of us had ever tasted. Seven of us crammed into a booth meant for four, comparing injuries like medals.
"Look at this!" Hawk held up his arm. A bruise was already forming in the shape of something abstract. "Modern art!"
"That's a hematoma," Aisha said. "You should see a doctor."
"Doctors are for quitters."
Johnny paid for everything, grumbling about his pension. Tory stole pepperoni from every plate within reach. Miguel kept touching his face like he couldn't believe he'd really done it.
"Same time next month?" Tory asked.
"Weekly if you want it."
"Weekly." Her grin was feral. "I want it."
The drive home was a convoy of damaged vehicles and damaged people and something that felt disturbingly like family.
My phone buzzed at 3 AM. Sam.
Sam: "Heard about last night. We need to talk."
Attached: a video of my handicap match. Thirty thousand views already.
"Well. That's a problem."
To supporting Me in Pateron .
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